


as long as they don't touch

by titasjournal



Category: The X-Files
Genre: Cancer Arc, Episode: s04e14 Memento Mori, Episode: s05e01 Redux I, Episode: s05e02 Redux II, It's Sweet I Promise, but also a lil sad, season 4, season 5
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-09
Updated: 2018-03-09
Packaged: 2019-03-29 02:12:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,006
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13917186
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/titasjournal/pseuds/titasjournal
Summary: five moments that mulder and scully shared before her cancer went into remission. he's tender and she lets him.





	as long as they don't touch

**Author's Note:**

> hey, you! this is my first fic for the x files, so any constructive criticism is appreciated! i just couldn't get these thoughts out of my head, so i decided to write it all down. i hope you like it!  
> tweet me at @titasjournall, message me on tumblr @titasjournal or just comment below your thoughts, i'd love to hear them out!
> 
> also, thanks a lot to maria and kam for making me watch this show, it's destroying my life.

i. remember that you will die

 

February 9th, 1997

 

I write to you as a coping mechanism. Should you ever read these letters, I shall be posthumously embarrassed.

            I’m so scared, Mulder. I believed my faith would make this illness bearable, but I find I was terribly wrong. What if what I believe in, what I’ve believed in all my life, is a lie? I fear I’ll crack that great mystery sooner rather than later. Mother tried to pray with me, but it didn’t soothe me, not like it used to. I fear I’ve become a skeptic in more than just your theories, Mulder. How insane is that? I feel the sharp cold of my necklace. The cross rests on the hollow of my neck. Whenever I try to touch it, the strangest thing happens: I feel your warmth, perhaps a sliver of you hope, back when you kept it for me. It’s silly, I know.

            I take comfort in the work we’re done together. Our pursuits have filled me with such knowledge. Nothing has been more rewarding to me, Mulder. My personal life might not be ideal, but I revel in the memories of our work as partners: the all-nighters in small towns, the exhausting road trips, your infuriating theories… I remember it all, Mulder, and I shall remember it until my last breath.

            I believe in very little since I met you. What we’ve discovered shook my perception of what is true and what is not, though I still hold on to a few beliefs. It is hard to earn my trust. It is even harder to earn my loyalty. You’re earned them both in the years I’ve come to know you. How I wish I had more time, for I feel I still know so little about you. How I wish we had more time. Forget me not, I beg of you.

            Love always,

            Dana

 

ii. what friends are for 


“The truth will save you, Scully.” He said, tightening his grip on her. “I think it’ll save both of us.”

He uttered these words not necessarily because he believed them, more so because it was a truth he so desperately ached to believe in, ached so that she would have the strength to do it too.

Some force of nature – perhaps the sorrow that inherently comes with the illness of someone you know, perhaps the repressed love he has for his partner – drove Mulder to press his lips to the top of her head. He felt her curl into his chest, a lone sob escaping her chapped lips. The slightest bit of movement on her part – maybe she ought to get back to bed, rest a little, mourn her friend – signaled him that she was thankful for this gesture, so unprofessional, yet so needed at this time, but also that the moment had ended and yes, she did have to go. Instead of letting her leave, he cradled her face with both hands – warm and inviting – and, once more, his lips found her skin, this time that on her forehead. Those brief seconds of touch felt like lightning through her body – first, the shock and adrenaline flowing through her bloodstream; then, the tingly, giddy sensation, supplied by the soft strokes of his thumbs on either one of her cheeks. She couldn’t help but smile into his chest.

“Mulder, can I ask you something?” she asked, in a weak voice.

“Sure,” he replied, fitting her back to his chest.

“Now that I know you read what I wrote…” she hesitated for a moment, but then reconsidered. “What did you think of it?”

He shifted his chin on top her head, making sure he wasn’t hurting her. “I make your words my own.”

She let that sink in for a few moments, while his hand stroked the small of her back. He feels for me what I feel for him. – but then, a thought: Did he understand how I feel?

To quash any doubts she might’ve had, almost like he used telepathy right out of an x file, he said: “You’re my best friend, Scully. We’ve been through hell and back together, you don’t need to worry about my devotion to you.”

Ah, yes. Scully was no stranger to Mulder’s devotion – his insatiable hunt for the truth, for his sister and, now, for her. But he needn’t hunt, for he had her already, at his mercy and through it all.  

iii. remember you’re still alive

“Fox, dear, I think you should head on home and get some rest,” Mulder was sitting on the edge of the chair outside Scully’s hospital room, his palms up on his thighs, looking into his hands like he’s searching for something he wasn’t quite able to find.

“I can’t go,” his eyes pled silently to Mrs. Scully. She would let him stay if he asked - and he would - but he acknowledged that he really should drive home. He would be more useful after a few hours of sleep.

“Sure, you can,” she offered him a restless smile. “She’ll be here once you wake up.” The promise seemed innocent enough - obvious, even - but it carried so much weight. She would probably still be laying on that hospital bed once he woke up, but there was a chance - and a not so far-fetched one - that she wouldn’t.

“I’ll just…” he hesitated but continued. “I’ll go ahead and say goodbye.” he smiled at this woman who, in a short span of time, had lost her husband, her youngest daughter and was, now, on the verge of losing her eldest. It felt unfair and almost invasive to ask her this, but he felt selfish enough to do so: “Would you mind if I went in alone? Two minutes and I’ll be out, I promise.”

Maggie forced a smile. “Of course, Fox. Tell her what you need. She’ll appreciate it.”

He fought an urge to hug Scully’s mother, for she was so kind even in the darkest of times.

He walked down the hall to his partner’s room and knocked softly before entering.

“Come in,” she whispered.

“How are you feeling?” Mulder offered her a reassuring smile - or the ghost of one, at the very least.

“Fine,” she tried to mimic his smile, but to no avail.

“Listen, I need to head home for a little while.”

“Of course, Mulder. You didn’t even need to stay this long.” she moved her head slightly, gripping the sheets just to feel like she still had strength in her fingers.

He ignored her and walked the few remaining steps towards her bed. “Can I sit?”

“Sure,” she patted the empty space next to her small, weaken body. He took it gladly.

“You are so strong, Scully.” his voice dripped from his lips like mellow honey, runny like on a summer’s day. “The strongest person I know.”

She smiled - she had no answer.

“I’m serious.” he chuckled, his hand finding hers underneath the white hospital sheets. “You kick major ass. I can’t even count how many times you’ve saved my life.” he didn’t sound patronizing, he sounded sincere.

“You’ve saved me too, Mulder. That’s what partners do.” she exhaled, turning her face away from him, toward the window. “Even if you always insist in skipping the trust-seminar-things.”

That earned a laugh from Spooky Mulder. “We don’t need any of that. We trust each other just fine without building a furniture tower.”

Her lips curved into a knowing smile.

“When you beat this thing,” he started. “I promise you we’ll road trip to those awful seminars and we’ll build a furniture tower in our motel room.”

“Our motel room?” she gasped at the all-too-unfamiliar expression coming out of his mouth.

“Hey, let a man dream.” he chuckled lightheartedly, getting up and leaning in to kiss her cheek. When his mouth reached the crease between her lips and her nose, she instinctively clutched the sheets underneath her. His lips lingered for a second too long before he pulled away. It wasn’t weird so much as… unexpected. But it had felt nice.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, Scully.”

And then he walked out of the room.

 

iv. to be brought back: part one 


“Mulder, there’s a dead man on your floor!” Scully’s high-pitched, confused voice sounded inside his darkened apartment.

“Scully, we’ve been through this already!” he was getting annoying with her. “We’ve made the plan, it’s all set.”

She still looked dumbfounded at her partner. “But… Mulder, they’ll know it’s not you.”

He frantically packed a few things into his pockets and kept talking to her: “That’s where you come in. No one will go against your judgement. It’s common knowledge that you’re the one who knows me best.”

Those few words linked together struck a chord inside Scully. She really was the one who knew him best, though she gathered no one really knew him - it took him years to let her in as much as he had, as she still felt there was so much she didn’t know.

She exhaled deeply at the thought, catching his attention.

“What’s the matter? Scully, do you feel sick? Are you bleeding?” he took a few quick strides towards her, his hand cradling the back of her neck, inspecting her nose.

“I’m fine,” she finally said, his hand easing down from her cheek. “I just realized something is all.”

She turned around, ready to leave, ready to get on with their plan, ready to do this one last mission for her partner.

He gripped her hand in the dark, though, and pulled her closer until only an arm’s length was between them. “Tell me,” his voice pleaded.

She shook her head, suddenly embarrassed for turning this fleeting thought into a big worry for Mulder. “There’s so much I still don’t know, Mulder.”

He breathed in through his nose soundlessly, trying to come up with a reassuring reply. “What do you want to know?”

“Huh?” she asked, taken aback by his choice of answer.

“I don’t think we’ll ever know the truth about what it is that we’re looking for, Scully.” he began, interlacing his fingers through hers momentarily before letting go. “But all you need to know, I think, is that you have a family who loves you very much, a work that is fulfilling and rewarding,” he stopped to brush a thumb across her blushed cheek. “And the unshakeable knowledge that I will do anything in my power to help you find a cure.”

And that was all it took to force a few stray tears from her eyes, down her cheeks, pooling on her lips. He brought her closer to him, until her head was resting on his chest, and all she could hear was the old brag of his heart - thump, thump, thump. Oh, and a whisper that promised: “I will not give up on you, Scully.”

 

v. to be brought back: part two 


“Mulder?” she woke up in the middle of the night to a man crying by her bed, gripping her ice-cold hand as if it were the last lifeboat on the face of the earth.

“Shit,” he cursed in a quiet murmur, realizing he’d woken her up.

“What-” she struggled to talk for a moment before continuing. “What’re you doing here?”

“I’m so sorry, I’ll go, you just keep sleeping.” he blurted out, embarrassed and feeling guilty.

“It’s alright,” she managed to say. “What happened?”

“I wanted to ask your opinion on something, but then I saw you were asleep and I didn’t have the heart to wake you.” he finished, rather lamely.

“‘S okay. What did you want to talk about?”

Everything was swimming in an inky-sort-of-black, and it took Scully several seconds to adjust her eyes to the darkness.

“Nah, never mind.” he smiled sweetly through the replicas of his tears, stroking her hair. “Goodnight, Scully.”

Watching him leave felt… not right, not right at all.

“Mulder,” she whispered, but it was too fragile. “Mulder.” she tried once more. He stopped.

“Yes?”

“Please don’t go.” she smiled weakly, the only way she knew how to these days.

“Please,” he said. “Just go back to sleep.”

“I’m wide awake.”

“That’s not my problem.” he raised one eyebrow mockingly.

“Turn around and come here.” She told him again.

He narrowed his eyes at her.

“Alright.”

She moved her body as much as she could, so as to grant his body a space laying down beside her own. She felt as if every bone, every vertebra, every vessel, every knuckle was a pile of mayhem being held together as a broken skeleton with a beating heart. A surge of energy ignited her body once he laid down beside her, for it felt like the most natural position in the world.

“I am so sorry,” were the first words he whispered.

She nodded, closing her eyes.

“Thank you,” she said. Time crawled until the two partners had even breathing patterns and eternity was whirling around them.

“Dana,” he murmured into the few centimeters that were keeping them apart.

She smiled at the use of her first name, one only reserved for her loved ones - the people she trusted most.

“You will do so many great things in your life, I wholeheartedly believe it.” he said, and he did. “I know it hasn’t been easy - I haven’t been easy - but we have fun, right?” she giggled faintly into his shirtsleeve.

“I know I never tell you, but I appreciate you so much.” he sounded so earnest that Scully couldn’t help but laugh. “No, I do, I really do! It’s insane actually - how you come with me on these crazy whims to these god-forsaken towns when you’d much rather be reading Capote on a Saturday night.”

Scully’s facial expression couldn’t lie: she was a bit shocked at how vocal Mulder was acting then.

“And the heels, oh God, how could I forget how many miles you can run in heels before you get mad at me!”

And he carried on for a while, just reminiscing on their memorable moments: “I can’t wait for you to come back to work, really.”

And he smiled so tenderly just then that time actually froze, like when they first met. Time froze, but her blood felt like it was running a marathon, and the cosmos reorganized itself in a way that the moonlight washed over them, embracing them, pulling them closer until they were two eyes, four hands and one breath.

“ _If_ I get back to work, Mulder.” she corrected, matter-of-factly.

“You will,” his lips curved upward. “And you’ll debunk my theories with your strict rationalism,” he said, his hand travelling the length of her arm. They were then facing each other, laying side by side, the only moment in time when Scully realized that they were actually the same height - she didn’t have to look up to see his eyes. “And I’m going to see you become an aunt,”

His fingers lingered at the curve of her neck, which she arched back ever-so-slightly, so as to allow him to touch more of her skin.

“And a mom,” his fingers locked behind her exposed neck, brushing her hair softly out of the way. The sharp cold of his hand dissipated as it came in contact with her warm, feverish one. Their body temperatures balanced each other out.

“And you’ll get married,” he continued, but stopped abruptly, as he understood the weight of what he’d just said. “Do you want to get married?”

Funny, how those words had haunted her ever since she’d become aware of her terminal illness. Did she? If she did, then with whom?

She decided to nod faintly, once.

“Okay, so I’ll see you get married, in a big, white dress,” he teased, laughing softly. “And in a big, tan coat?”

She laughed at his silliness but decided to add her own condition: “Only if you wear those god-awful ties.”

They broke into a grin at the same time: “Deal.”

The word hung in the air. For a second or two, Scully wasn’t quite sure of where they were going from here - would he leave her so she could rest? or would he sleep there, with her?

And that’s when it hit her - she wanted him to stay with _her_ , more than anything at that moment.

He sensed it too, she guessed, for he closed the distance between his lips and her exposed collarbone. The sensation was exciting, at first, but it swiftly metamorphosed into a deep feeling of sorrow - Mulder would’ve never done that had she not been dying from cancer.

She let herself enjoy it, though - the feel of his lips on her body:

After they left her collarbone, they trekked upward, to her shoulder. His stubble tickled the sensitive skin of her cheek, and she silently thanked god for allowing her to not tremble at every touch.

His hand gripped her waist carefully, always aware of every movement he made - which could very well hurt her. Gently, he pulled their bodies together, until they were pressed completely to each other. She laughed awkwardly but let him do whatever it was that he was doing.

His lips landed softly on her temple, lingering there for a while. In that short span of time, she felt it all - his initial respect and later admiration for her, his desire to protect and be protected by her, his affection as a best friend.

The best friend.

Once he pulled back, just slightly, he looked into her eyes - they were glassy, but blue - much like his own. That little space between her eyebrows, he kissed it too. The tip of her nose, the lid on her left eye, her cheekbone - he didn’t miss a square inch.

“Mulder,” she whispered into the night. “Put your lips close to mine,” he smiled. “As long as they don’t touch.”

And he did as she asked. She could feel the warmth radiating from his lips to hers, just the ghost of a touch.

No promises, no attachments.

Just them.

 


End file.
